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The Girl, The Demon - Chanda Lynn's Addiction & Recovery Story

02-20-2017, 09:58 AM

I am Chanda Lynn. I am a recovering addict, 2+ years in now. Though I am very public about my addiction, it's always strange to introduce myself as I did. This part of my identity is so crucial to who I am. Not just then, but now.

I started out at 16, smoking pot and drinking. It's hard to pin point when addiction began for me. Maybe it started when I pressed a knife into my skin and was released when I saw blood and felt pain. Maybe it was when I couldn't live with the thoughts in my head, unless I was wasted and violent towards the ones who loved me. Maybe it was when I became suicidal and sick when I didn't take a percocet. It's hard to say when I became an addict. I wasn't consciously aware that I was and that's the thing that scares me about this whole "epidemic". The blind choices I made led me into a very dark place. But, I loved the chaos. I loved the darkness. I loved the pain and sorrow, because I functioned in it. Actually, if things were going well, I couldn't function. I would self-sabotage my own peace, because the very thought of peace terrified me. I was a very tormented person.

I was 20 when every little stitch I ever held together, fell apart. By this time I was a mother. It's the hardest thing to admit that you chose to get high, over the love and best interest of the one you are supposed to love the most- your child. But I did. I remember living in complete and utter desperation. I couldn't love. I couldn't feel. Every single day was the same as the one behind it. The chase. Frantic text messages and phone calls asking "did you get it yet". The sickness. The convulsions, the sweat, the overall death-like feeling. Anything normal was foreign to me. How could people go grocery shopping, without being high? How could people do their dishes without taking 6 percs? How could people go to the laundromat without dilaudid? I was so disassociated from recovery, that I would wish for someone else's life, instead of praying for my own. My greatest fantasy was swapping lives with a person I walked past at Walmart. It was so outlandish to believe that I could ever experience even a moment, where I wasn't obsessing about or needing to get high. I threw in the metaphorical towel here. I figured my son would eventually get taken away. That I'd end up on the streets (more so than I was), that I'd eventually have a fatal overdose, because the ones before it didn't do the trick and my time here on Earth would be nothing more than an obituary, a couple tears and a senseless waste on God's behalf, for even creating me.

But, there was something inside of me. Still very much alive, though very small. The part that wanted nothing more than to leave all of this behind. To start over. To live. That part of me, didn't think about withdrawals, didn't think about the "impossibles", didn't think about the "I cannot's". That part of me wanted so desperately to live. I imagine that part of me, locked in a cage. Crying inside of my chest, where I hid it. Nearly drown out by the liquor, blue in the face from the pills, hardly breathing from the rest, just laying there softly crying and pleading with me....Please wake up.

I never believed that little part of me in that cage would ever be more than a whisper. But that part of me wanted to live, more than I wanted to die. That part of me wanted to be a good mother, wanted to have a future, wanted someone to be proud of her.
I could lay out in this story all of the drugs, the entire timeline, the d.o.c.'s and the few meetings, but I won't. When I was in active addiction, none of those things would've mattered to me if I had read them. What mattered to me, was, "was it possible for me?" You never know true possibility if you're not willing to believe it into your own life. I chose those words wisely, because that phrase is powerful. What do you believe about you are capable of?

On December 27th,2014, I had faith the size of a mustard seed (probably smaller) and for a moment or two, I believed I could recover from this life. I left town for 4 days and went cold turkey. I didn't believe it was my last time using. Because thinking something like that scared me. But, on the third day I woke up. To everything. The guilt and shame reminded me that I was in fact human. The fog was lifted from my eyes. The desperation lessened. I realized everything I was and everything I had done. For the first time, I separated myself, from my addiction. I realized that I wasn't that demon. That demon was that demon and I was me.

Now, I have over 2 years and counting in recovery. Something that part of me, deep down in that cage, wanted for me. It took me a very long time to realize, that that part of me, in that cage, was actually who I am. The rest, I fear, was not.
If recovery is possible for me, it is possible for you. I don't mean that in a cliche way, I truly mean that. Choose life.

Chanda, Welcome to our heroin addiction and recovery discussion forum, thank you so much for sharing your story and congratulations on your recovery. I was surprised at how much our stories had in common and i never believed when I got clean that I would or that it was the last time I would use, in fact I sat out to just stay clean for a few days, weeks, months just to prove that i could stop if I wanted to but then I decided to go a year heroin free again just to prove a point but here I am now almost 2 and a half years later! That little mustard seed sized hope inside of you is all it takes sometimes I like to think that that little seed of hope or that voice in our head is our real selves screaming for help inside of us and our recovery is our real selves being set free again! I'm so proud of you and great job!!

All opinions are my own and don't necessarily represent that of Kill the Heroin Epidemic Nationwide. I am not a medical professional and nothing I say should constitute or replace medical advice provided by a professional.

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Thanks so much for taking the time to share your story. I can relate to a lot of what you shared. It's strange because I always considered myself a "child of the light", growing up. I didn't start getting involved with drugs nor did I become an addict until I was in my early to mid 30's. However, there was something very appealing about the darkness and it drew me in. I wasn't afraid of it and I entered and stayed there. I enjoyed the process of going to the worst parts of the city and being around some of the "scariest" people on earth just as much as I did indulging in my object of addiction, which started as oxybodone and turned into heroin. Looking back, I still understand the alluring nature of the darkness, but I still prefer the light. Light overtakes the darkness and exposes all the shadows. It wasn't pretty at first because when I first started to re-enter the light, I despised what I had become. But it was truly the beginning of my metamorphosis and transformation back to a child of light. That doesn't mean I'm perfect, far from it. But I at least now try to do good and remember who I was meant to be. I'm glad you have found your path. I trust we will all be here to help encourage each other to stay on that path.

I do my best to educate myself regarding addiction and recovery related issue, treatment options, etc. however, I am not a medical professional. All opinions are my own and any advice you take from me is at your own risk and discretion

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Chanda,
Welcome to the forum❤ Thank you for sharing your story! I always love to hear stories of recovery, because even if it gives one person hope, I call that a victory. Recovery is such a beautiful thing, we get a chance to live again instead of being a slave to something so evil. ❤Megan